But best of all, he remained hard as steel deep inside her.
When she lifted her head, his green eyes were glittering.
Dylan wrapped his arms around her, shifted slightly and then he took control.
He fucked her, hard.
The harder and wilder he went, the more she felt like liquid gold with the rush of it. She was lost again. She was part of him. Coming and coming, until she couldn’t tell the difference between coming and not coming, when there was only him. And the relentless way he drove inside of her.
On and on, until there was no difference between the way she sobbed and the way she shuddered. It was all Dylan.
And when he came again, he shouted out her name.
Then held her there, still sprawled on top of him. She tucked her face against his chest, and listened to his heart thunder beneath her ear.
Outside, dawn was breaking.
And Jenny knew that she’d gotten exactly what she’d wanted. What she’d asked for.
She’d been properly fucked, finally.
And more than that, she was well and truly fucked, in every other sense of the word.
Because somewhere during that last, abandoned sprint into the deepest joy she’d ever known, the truth had slammed into her along with yet another orgasm.
She’d been keeping this door shut tight as long as she’d known him. And there’d been a reason for that.
Because now that door between them was wide open, and it was far worse than she’d thought it would be.
She was in love with Dylan Kilburn. She suspected she always had been.
But he’d made it clear that he wasn’t going to fall in love with her.
And Jenny had no earthly idea how she was going to live with that once she left Australia, returned to her life and married Conrad, as planned.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HEEXPECTEDHERto leave, but she stayed.
She stayed, and they fell face forward into one of those dreams Dylan knew all too well. The dream where Jenny lived here, with him. She slept in his bed and left her things cluttering up his countertop in the bathroom. Bizarre female things that he found fascinating, given the size of her collection and how little she used them. She started to hum again, tuneless little ditties beneath her breath as she moved around the place, and the big, heartbreakingly bright smile she gave him when he joined in made them both laugh.
Dylan knew it couldn’t last, that it wasn’t real. That was why he didn’t do anything truly foolish, like tell his office he would be unavailable for the foreseeable future. And while he thought that his daily forays into reality would make this stolen time with her better, it didn’t.
Because if he’d holed up with Jenny on a deserted island somewhere, it would have been a holiday for both of them. And he knew full well that holidays couldn’t last. They never did.
Instead, he just...had Jenny. In his life. The way he’d always wanted her.
Sometimes she met him out in the city, and he took her to his favorite restaurants. New flash bars and local dives. His club, when he couldn’t make it home without having her. Other nights, he met her back at his and cooked for her, if he had a mind to. Or sometimes, he came in to find her throwing a dinner together for the two of them.
It all made his heart do strange and terrible things inside his chest.
Having Jenny in his bed made it far too easy to imagine what it would be like if this was real. Jenny, there in the mornings. All that texting they did, but with Jenny actually there to pop in for lunch. Or to walk the coastal path with him. Jenny to reach over and hold his hand while they talked, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.
And in between all those sweet, domestic moments he’d never wanted, and yet found he hungered for, he got his hands on her. His hands, his mouth, his cock. And he got to live out every last fantasy he’d ever had involving this woman. From cranky morning sex to long, slow, torture for them both. He got to experiment with tying her up to his bed, bending her over the furniture, and watching how melty and sweet she got when he ordered her about.
He kept waiting for a hitch. For something to change, and ruin this thing they had going on. He expected that sooner or later, the fire would dim a bit.
But it only got stronger. The more he had her, inventive and mad, or intense and quiet, the more he wanted her.